Third Person's POV Some beings in this world were strange. They could love fiercely, accept a child not their own, yet they could never muster the courage to stand decisively by her side when it mattered. Aysel understood that such creatures weren't worth her attention; the incomprehensible could remain unexplored. She quickly dismissed the unexpected encounter with her former Alpha and turned her teasing gaze to Magnus. "So... where's the hyacinth from our pack?" she asked lightly. Because of her earlier declaration-"Our pack does not need gifts from a third party"-Magnus now carried no hint of guilt. He answered with the calm authority of a true Alpha, "I had Daron take it away." Aysel shook her head, her voice playful. "Some Alphas appear mighty and untouchable, but can't even endure a single flower, huh?" Magnus smiled, pressing his hand around hers, wolfish heat radiating from his presence. "Yes... I'm jealous." "Don't accept flowers from other males, understand?" he growled, a predator's warning etched in his tone. "Magnus," she replied with a sly grin, "haven't you heard? Men who try to control too much never gain favor." He considered this seriously, then gave a low, resigned growl. "Then... you'll just have to endure me your whole life." "Such a tyrant," she laughed, feigning surprise, then wrapped her arms around his, leaning into him with lighthearted surrender. "Then I accept." Magnus's lips curved upward, pleased. ... The funeral of Anna was simple and austere. With the fall of the Fourth Branch, the influence of their line scattered like leaves in wind; no one wished to be entangled. Aside from a few distant relatives, even business allies were seldom invited. Magnus only made a symbolic appearance, staying close to Aysel as they walked through the solemn gathering. Guests noted how she walked beside the Alpha of Shadowbane, shoulders aligned, unshaken by the solemnity of the occasion. Whispers rustled through the crowd-clearly, the Moonvale Pack's jewel was ascending to become a new matriarch of the Sanchez lineage. Fate and chance intertwined; who could have predicted the Moonvale heir, long buried like hidden treasure, would step into another pack's domain with such ease?Even Alpha Remus and his mate likely rued their choices. Word of Aysel's presence, her poise and dignity, spread like wildfire. Many watched the faces of the Sanchez matriarchs from the elder generation. Ulva, the eldest matriarch, carried herself with customary grace, attending to her role with composed generosity. Ivy, Magnus's stepmother, could not conceal her displeasure, huddled with her kin whispering conspiracies and resentments. The Third Matriarch kept her head low, submissive, her children unusually quiet. The Sixth Matriarch, known for her sharp tongue and sweet words, mingled with relatives around Bastien, laughing easily. The Sanchez pack's history of internecine struggle was notorious. Wolves clawed and snapped at one another; matriarchs wielded power and deception like sharpened talons. Even distant kin were engaged in silent battle. Yet, in the end, no one had claimed the true title of "Sanchez Matriarch." Now, an outsider, a small Moonvale female, had seized the symbolic fruit. Resentment simmered quietly but no one dared disrupt the gathering. Attention instead fell on the Fifth Branch, appearing for the first time in years. The older generation recognized them, but the young barely remembered the line's disappearance. Curiosity colored every glance. Young Noah Draven, son of Rudi Sanchez, peered toward the tea-serving Johanna and the father-son pair. "Mom, is that Fifth Uncle and Aunt? They're... alive?" For years, the family assumed the Fifth Branch lost. He blinked at the man with golden-framed spectacles, handsome and calm. "Is that their son?" His eyes narrowed in confusion. "No... he looks about the same age as Derek. Where does he fit in the line?" The Sanchez third generation: firstborn from the First Branch, Derek; second, Zark from the Third Branch; third, Magnus, born to the Second Branch. Following siblings ranked accordingly. Alfie, born to the Fifth Branch after years of absence, had no official place and was called "Young Master Alfie" by staff. Rudi's son felt a pang of frustration at this unofficial hierarchy. He scolded himself and was about to argue when he caught Aysel's piercing gaze. He immediately shut his mouth; he remembered well the last family gathering where he had been humiliated by her presence. The sharp sting of spilled tea and scorn had lingered for days. Noah's envy churned. No matter what others said about Aysel marrying into the Sanchez line, he believed her beauty was hollow without heritage, fit only to be a mistress. Yet... his third cousin, Magnus, was the luckiest Alpha alive. Aysel Vale was radiant, and standing next to Magnus, they were an unstoppable force of allure and dominance, a pair of wolves at the top of the forest. Noah shivered as Magnus's cold gaze swept past, reminding him of the past rumors that had decimated the Fourth Branch. And then, Aysel caught him with a mischievous glance, whispered something into Magnus's ear, and Magnus's expression softened into a wolfish smile of possession. Noah felt an icy premonition slither down his spine.